


Such Still Waters

by HansBlanke



Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Gore, Implied Relationships, Killing, Kissing, Knives, Mirror Universe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-28
Updated: 2018-12-28
Packaged: 2019-09-29 09:31:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,142
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17200994
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HansBlanke/pseuds/HansBlanke
Summary: "Paranoid is what they call people whoimaginethreats against their life. Ihavethreats against my life."





	Such Still Waters

**Author's Note:**

  * A translation of [Тихий, тихий омут](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/444329) by Hans Blanke. 



_Aus ihren Liebesbanden_

_War keine Rettung mehr._

 

When Garak heard that a runabout from the Cardassian diplomatic mission was due to stop by Terok Nor on its way to Bajor, it was already too late.  
  
"Number of passengers?"  
  
"The specification says it's a one-manned vessel." Even his Klingon subordinate who had handed him a data padd with the report seemed to look at him like he was an idiot.  
  
"Whose vessel?"  
  
"Not mentioned." The guy rabbited before the Cardassian could ask him anything else. That was understandable. The answers to all his questions were on the padd, and were meant for the Gul's eyes, not his. But Garak could not force himself to look at the screen.  
  
When the runabout requested permission for docking, he was the first to make his way to the airlock. The diplomatic rats were rarely so honoured, but in this case, Kira's intentions and Garak's own plans were very much alike.  
  
The first look at her revealed little unusual about the young woman, almost a girl, who stepped out of the bay. It was only that she was a very eager follower of the fashion for style mixing which was so widespread among the civilians of the Alliance. A Bajoran shawl covered her shoulders, almost naked in a Cardassian dress, to protect her from cold. She had her long black hair meticulously arranged in a Cardassian way with the help of many Bajoran hairpins. The Cardassian makeup ink filled the inner part of the "spoon" in the middle of her forehead...  
  
And contoured brightly the Bajoran ridges on her hose.  
  
The woman took a brief look around. Her eyes stopped at him unmistakably.  
  
"Secretary Tora." The Cardassian bowed his head, enough to greet her politely but not take his eyes off her when doing so. "On behalf of Intendant Kira, let me welcome you to Terok Nor. And on behalf of myself, if I may, it is a... _pleasure_ to finally meet the woman I've heard so much about."  
  
"Gul Garak." She bowed to him in the same manner and gave him a charming smile. "It is my pleasure as well. Father considers you his personal enemy since he was forced to resign. Such hatred is not for everyone."  
  
"He would have made a great Gul." Garak said, passionless.  
  
"Instead, you have, have you not?" She looked at him, straight and unblinking. Her eyes, maybe blue, maybe green, were like clear lakes. "But it doesn't matter. May I hope to express my gratitude to the Intendant herself?"  
  
"She awaits you. If you'll come with me." He let her go first.  
  
***  
  
Kira, unlike Garak, was awfully glad to see Tora. Actually, she hadn't greeted the guest because she was having a real feast prepared. The instant the doors opened, she sprang up to her feet and rushed to her: to hug, to suggest she called her Nerys, to beg a permission to call the woman Ziyal out of her, to invite her to the table, to snap at Garak and make him join them; and all that took no more than a minute.  
  
The Gul decided that ruining his stomach with Bajoran food would be a small price for being able to closely watch the guest, each of whose parents had, even before they had become a couple, sworn to make him bleed. She would glance back at him, but she watched Kira more than him, and her plate even more than Kira. They hadn't seemed to treat her to a lot of Bajoran food on Cardassia, or Bajoran talks, for that matter. The women switched to Bajoran after a couple of phrases, and Garak stopped paying attention to their conversation after ten or fifteen minutes, even though the translator was on. He was content to notice when someone addressed him, when he was asked to open another bottle of spring wine, or when someone gasped the way Ziyal did, interrupting Kira's already half-drunken joke.  
  
"Is it really so late?" She tapped the mini-communicator on her wrist, but the result did not seem to change.  
  
"You can't think it's bedtime." Nerys gazed at her. "It's way too early."  
  
Ziyal gave her an apologising smile as she stood up. "I've switched to the time zone of the capital beforehand. I wanted to get home before the sunset, but I think they've gone to bed by now. May I ask for permission to spend the night on the station? I would sleep in the runabout, be it in the least degree designed for that."  
  
"You can sleep _here._ " Kira said in her sweetest voice, grabbing her hand gently. The girl pretended to be shy.  
  
"I would like to get to bed a little early. But maybe my yes could still be accepted when I get back in a few days?" She lowered herself again, almost to the point of kneeling, looked up at the Bajoran, and kissed her hand.  
  
"You can be sure about that." Kira let go of her, though her eyes were hungry. "What about number thirty-seven?"  
  
"Any choice of yours will be fine with me." Everything about Ziyal could tell she had no idea about the station's layouts, and the number told her nothing.  
  
"This is the best option available." The woman assured her.  
  
"Intendant, may I show our guest her way?" Garak said abruptly.  
  
Kira nodded.  
  
"You may. Especially if Ziyal will allow us to speak in private for a moment." The latter tossed her head joyfully and left.  
  
"Sweet child." Kira sighed. Only after that did she look again at Garak, harshly. "So, Garak. I don't give a damn what is there between you and her father, even if that happened to be a bed. Our mothers are old colleagues, so Ziyal's pretty much like a sister to me. If you lay a finger upon her, I'll know, and when I do, you won't have any fingers left. Understood?"  
  
"Very much so." Garak bowed his head politely.  
  
"I'm glad, then." She smiled pleasantly.  
  
"...but if I were you, I would be more worried about your First Officer, rather than the secretary." Garak added, looking into the Bajoran's eyes – and seeing nothing but a wall of indiffenence in them. "Her mother has her reasons to dislike me, too."  
  
"So what?" Kira waved her hand dismissively. "Go already."  
  
***  
  
They walked slowly. It occurred to Garak that maybe he was eyeing the woman with as much greed as the Intendant, yet his goal was different. It was strangely thrilling to think that the girl next to him, despite having openly expressed her hostility towards him, was most helpless. Her dress could not have covered any armour: the thin spine was attractive in its fragility. If he happened, as Kira had said, to lay a finger...  
  
"Thank you for having escorted me, Gul." The girl said politely, as he stopped by some common-looking quarters. "It must have been a dangerous journey, since you've been paying me so much attention."  
  
"There is nothing more dangerous in here than you, my dear." He assured her in his most serious tone.  
  
"Isn't there?" Ziyal admirably played lost. His eyes were on her persistently. "I think I should thank you for such a compliment-"  
  
She promptly leaned in to kiss him.  
  
He failed to pull away in time.  
  
***  
  
A guard walked slowly across the other end of the corridor. He glanced at the couple and smirked. For whatever reason the Intendant had asked him to go after them, he looked forward already to reporting success.  
  
There is nothing better that complaining about your superiors.  
  
***  
  
Ziyal had never thought it would be so pleasant.  
  
She felt like her lips and hands were full of scarlet, glossy brown petals that dripped onto the floor and splashed all over her favourite dress. Pity they could not make a necklace.  
  
She hit the door button behind her, took a step backwards and pulled Garak inside with her. She would love to prolong the moment she had waited for so long, but the Gul – where had his military training gone? – could not stand straight anymore. He fell on his knees before her and gurgled unpleasantly. Ziyal sighed, squatted and gripped the handle of the knife that had slid in his neck just right over the armour plate. She was not going to take it off though. If she had measured the movement right...  
  
She pushed the blade further, so that blood stained the crosspiece, and indeed, she either heard or felt the tip crushing the vertebra.  
  
Maybe the _thin_ blood did make her weaker than other Cardassian girls. Nevertheless, she was perfectly capable of beheading a person.  
  
***  
  
Garak had allowed himself too long an absence. Kira finished her plate and looked over the rest of the dishes with a sigh of pretended disappointment. She picked some of his favourite grapes and said, slowly chewing, "Computer, locate Gul Garak."  
  
"Gul Garak is in the guest quarters number thirty-seven," a pleasant voice answered.  
  
"He's still there?!"  
  
The computer thought it better to remain silent.  
  
Kira sighed, put the grapes back – it was not their fault, but she had lost her appetite – and demanded to make her bed. Of course she was not going to disturb the Cardassian right now. But it seemed that in the morning, she would have to pick another First Officer.  
  
***  
  
The weather on Bajor was as good as Ziyal herself felt, though the she could use a warmer wind. She landed a little far on purpose, so that she could walk through the city peacefully, enjoy the slow walk and ask anyone she met how to get to the Emissary's house. Almost everyone knew the answer by now. Wonderful.  
  
Of course her father was no Emissary. But the sinecure allowed him to serve as a link between Cardassia and Bajor – after all, someone had to intertwine the government's decisions with the prophecies – and also study any part of the Bajoran religion he liked. He even wore the earring in his right ear. Ziyal remembered how wry his face had been while the sensitive cartilage had healed after having been pierced. But it was piece of cake compared to him marrying a Bajoran woman even before beating the Terrans. Everything had been at stake then. And the risk had proved to be worth it. Now the Tora couple had half the Alliance at their fingertips _and_ was raising a decent successor who prepared herself to grab hold of the other half.  
  
The doorbell had a new chime, a very beautiful one. When Ziyal heard footsteps, she flung her hood on her head, glanced at the man who had opened the door for her, clasped her hands before her face and cried out, "Bless me, Father!"  
  
"I bless you, my child," Dukat said calmly as he reached out to touch her ear, as if brushing a lock of her hair behind it, although he was perfectly aware that she did not wear the earring.  
  
They both chuckled.  
  
"I've been dreaming about doing this." Ziyal bared her head again and hugged her father.  
  
"You really had me going there for a second." He patted her back. "Come in."  
  
The door closed, and Ziyal sighed, deeply and happily. "Home, sweet home. Where cat I put my bag?"  
  
"Give it to me." Dukat helped her to take it off. "Travelling light, as usual?"  
  
"Yeah, only the must-haves in there." Ziyal smiled broadly. "Don't open it okay? There's a present for you and Mum."  
  
She would look at her father now and then as she took off her hood, and her chest ached sweetly. They had not seen each other for a while. He was almost a stranger in his Bajoran clothes, with those wrinkles at the corners of his eyes and greyish hair on his temples. But he was still her father, and her heart raced with joy at the very sound of his voice, even as he asked with a touch of irony, "A present? In stasis?"  
  
"Yep. Went through hell to take a leave from work and celebrate your anniversary with you. Is Mum coming in the afternoon?"  
  
"Where else would she go?" Dukat asked in mild bewilderment. "I can pass it to her that you're home. She should be able to come earlier then."  
  
"As you wish. And how's Damar doing?" she asked, taking her bag from him. "Does he still get sober on occasion? I'll have to contact him."  
  
"And remind him that you have plans for him, too?" Was it Ziyal, or did Dukat really wrinkle his nose a little when he smiled? She didn't know, but it got her every time.  
  
"Oh no, I'm not taking him away yet." She smiled back. "Now I just want to share some rumours. The word is, they may be looking for a First on one of the Nors."


End file.
